


Don't mind him. He's ... Antivan.

by Ywain Penbrydd (penbrydd)



Series: Fade-Touched (An adventure in organ fondling) [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Anders has some fucking issues, Consent Issues, Dry Orgasm, Electricity Play, Enthusiastic Consent, Humor, Inappropriate Humor, M/M, Ninja Cat, Open Relationships, Romance, Scars, Weird Power Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-30
Updated: 2015-02-03
Packaged: 2018-03-09 16:14:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3256295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penbrydd/pseuds/Ywain%20Penbrydd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mid-Awakening. Zevran drops by, between murderous escapades, to visit his favourite Warden, now Warden-Commander. The Warden-Commander will do anything to keep his charming assassin the hell out of Amaranthine politics, and foists him off on a certain delightfully knavish mage. (Who is really doing his best to keep his ass both out of the fire and firmly attached to himself.)</p><p>Eventual Zevran/Anders, and possibly Zevran/Anders/M!Surana. The story tells itself. I'll know when I get there. *grins*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Nate never signed up for this shit...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MaverikLoki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaverikLoki/gifts), [catharticEscapism](https://archiveofourown.org/users/catharticEscapism/gifts).



Anders didn't notice the assassin, until Nate got punched in the balls. To be fair, it wasn't like the man was trying to kill any of them, just to get to the Warden-Commander's office without being noticed. And, really, that's why Nate was there -- to keep things like that from happening. The Warden-Commander had an interesting relationship with a couple of factions of the Crows, he'd gathered, and while no new contracts were being issued, there was still one outstanding, and every once in a while, some young fool would try to close it out.

Fool though this one might be, however, he was faster than Nate, who crumpled to the floor with a strained sound of surprise. Anders heard it happen, before he saw anything. He'd learnt to recognise the sounds of the Wardens he worked with, so he could judge who to heal first, in combat.

"Luke?" he shouted, unshouldering his staff, as he sprinted down the hall of the keep. "Luke? Nate's down!"

There was no response, and as he swept around the last corner, fist full of ice and cat peeking out the collar of his robe, he saw why. That was unmistakeably Warden-Commander Lucien Surana, bronze-skinned and strawberry-haired, _deeply_ engaged with a honey-haired elf in intriguing leather armour, while Nate leaned nearby, clutching the wall with one hand and his junk with the other.

Anders shook the chill from his hand and just took in the scene, for a long moment. "So, which one of them hit you?" he finally asked.

"The short one. The Crow." Nate wouldn't ask, but he stared expectantly at Anders.

"Well. That's a new tactic." Anders and Ser Pounce-A-Lot watched the Warden-Commander's hands wander over the man whose fists were clenched in the back of his robe. "Seems to be working well for him."

The kiss broke, at last, and one of the Crow's hands drifted up to cup Ser Luke's cheek. "Lucien," he breathed, with a strong Antivan accent, looking like he might fall into the Warden-Commander's eyes and never resurface. "You didn't tell me you worked with such handsome and handsy young men! This one almost got the better of me. Well, not really, but it was a good try."

The Warden-Commander nearly purred. "You meet the very best of my men, when you don't use the front door, Zev."

"Why should I use the door? It's so pedestrian. How am I supposed to visit you by surprise, if I come in through the door?" A heated and knowing smile spread across the Crow's face. "I do remember how much you like to be surprised."

"Mmm, and I remember how much you like to be knocked on your ass and tied up, and you're not getting that coming through the front door, either, are you?" 

It really blew Anders away what a man of Lucien's stature could get away with saying in semi-public, some days. He handled the Crow just like he handled the Banns, with jaw-dropping bluntness and a charming smile that hinted at exactly how far he was willing to go.

"Just like when we met," the Crow agreed, "I surprised you, and you knocked me on my ass and tied me up. The best worst mission I was ever sent on."

"And now that we've traumatised my men, I suppose proper introductions should be made. This is Nate." Lucien gestured to the dark-haired man, still looking a little less than enthused about the state of his junk.

"Nathaniel Howe." He glowered resentfully over the offered hand.

"Howe?" The Crow exchanged a look with the Warden-Commander, and then smiled pleasantly and shook the offered hand. "I met your father. My apologies to any children you haven't had yet."

"My... father." Nate shot a horrified glare at Lucien. "So I've heard. You're _that_ Crow."

"Does your commander make a habit of slipping the tongue to random Crows, in the hall? Not that I'd necessarily blame him. The Crows are very talented in many regards." Somehow, the Crow in question maintained a straight face.

"Just the one, that I've noticed." Nate's glare took on a certain radiant displeasure.

"Getting a little less fond of men who try to kill you, Lucien? You really had a thing, for a while, there."

Nate looked at anything that wasn't the Warden-Commander, and the Warden-Commander pointed the other way down the hall. "And this is Anders."

"Yes, obviously." The Crow's eyes narrowed, thoughtfully, as he considered the mage. "The runner, right? Very good at running, not so good at hiding, I hear."

"Not everyone can be as multi-talented as Luke." Anders shrugged.

"Have you become so familiar with his multiplicity of talents?" The crow batted his eyes flirtatiously and fanned himself with one hand.

Anders froze, tongue suddenly leaden in his mouth. "Not-- No! Not like that!" he sputtered, but the Crow went on without him.

"Ah, but I have not introduced myself, and Lucien knows better than to give out my name." Hand settling on his chest, the Crow leaned back and looked over his shoulder at Nate. "You may call me Zevran." He turned back to Anders, with a smouldering smile. "And you may call me whatever you like, any hour of the day or night."

"Zev, you just got here. Don't traumatise my men before dinner." Lucien draped an arm around Zevran's shoulders and shrugged apologetically at Anders.

"In _front_ of you?" Nate murmured, now twice as horrified.

"Before me, behind me, over the sea from me -- Speaking of which, how was your journey, beloved?" Lucien offered Nate an amused smile, as he looked back up from Zevran's beautifully unperturbed countenance. "Gloriously, unapologetically Antivan. Just the way I like him."

Nate stared a little longer, face lingering in the distance between baffled and disgusted, before storming off down the hall. "Elves. _Antivans_. I'm getting tea."

"As charming and inviting as that sounds," Anders finally managed, edging carefully around the couple in the middle of the hall, "I like all the parts of my body still attached to me. You're an Antivan Crow. A legendary assassin. And Luke kicked your ass. I'm not getting in the middle of this without an engraved invitation."

"Actually, he froze it, set it on fire, and then switched targets and cracked me over the head with his staff." Zevran laughed. "This man is the case in point for the danger of purposefully applied magic."

"Zev's a free man, Anders. He just happens to be the free man I love. If you want to enjoy his company, maybe do it while I try not to choke on my tongue, tomorrow afternoon?" the Warden-Commander suggested.

"Andraste's ass. Bann Esmerelle, again?" Anders asked, wincing sympathetically.

"The very one." Lucien's smile was bleak and exhausted. "In fact, if you would please keep him out of my office during that meeting, by whatever means you see fit, I would be eternally in your debt."

"You are trying to keep me out of politics, mi amore?" Zevran asked. "It may be a little late for that. But, come, let me put something more interesting on your desk, for a while."

"Don't... break anything, you two." Anders shook his head, as Zevran herded the Warden-Commander back into his office, all kisses and quick hands. "I'll see you... tomorrow... I guess?"

"I look forward to your charming company, dear apostate. But, for now, I must look after my own mage. Look how tired and hungry he looks! Do you wardens not take care of him?" Zevran squeaked as Lucien's hand grabbed his ass and hauled him off the floor. "Mmm, yes. _Definitely_ hungry..."

Lucien grinned indulgently at Anders and then slammed his office door, leaving Anders to follow Nate toward the kitchen, muffled thumps and laughs drifting after him down the hall.

"Don't listen to them, 'Pounce. What is going on behind that door is not for kittens," he said, quietly, as the cat clambered out of the front of his robe and took up residence on his shoulder. 

"Hey, Nate? If you're making tea, I want some!" he called down the hall, picking up his pace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, Lil. I know you're not much for the porn, but I'm hoping I can give you a Zevran that's worth all the dick.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unexpected interlude on the battlements, in the moonlight.

As it went, Anders didn't need to wait until afternoon to see the assassin again. It was the middle of the night, in fact, and he and Ser Pounce-a-lot were out on the battlements, watching the moon and stars.

"All the world, Pounce. All of Thedas and beyond. It's ours, if we want it. No more Templars, no more windowless rooms. I'm a Warden, and you are my brave feline companion."

Ser Pounce-a-lot meowed, inquisitively, and swatted at a beetle between two stones in the wall.

"That's right! Brave heroes in the fight against the darkspawn. They'll never lock me up again, and you'll get to grow up here, with all the fresh air you can stand." Anders reached out and scratched the kitten behind the ears. "I'll never let them take you away from me."

Sparks danced between his fingertips, and Pounce rolled over to bat at them.

"I'm sorry about the Deep Roads, Pounce. We'll be done there, soon, and then we can spend the rest of our days aboveground, enjoying the air and the sun and the stars."

"Don't be so sure of that." The voice was directly behind him, and the hand that wasn't on the cat lit up with lightning, as Anders startled and turned. Zevran continued as if he hadn't moved at all, stepping up to rest his hands on the crenellated wall. "Lucien is fond of the Deep Roads. I have never seen him so at home, as when we were below. If he wasn't a mage, and such a fine mage, I would insist his father must have been a dwarf. But, no dwarf can do what he does."

Anders slowly remembered how to breathe and rubbed the lightning off his fingers. "And you?"

Ser Pounce-a-lot slunk up to Zevran's wrists and rubbed against them, purring.

"I went with him. You have to understand, then? I would have gone anywhere with him, because the I was dead to the world. It was pleasing. But, down in the dark, no. I do not belong down there." Zevran stared out across the courtyard and the acres of sleeping farmland, beyond. "Not that I belong up here. Being a dead man has certain disadvantages."

"I'll have to try being dead, if I have to run again. Does it work well?" Anders asked, gently tugging at the tip of Pounce's tail, to distract the kitten from Zevran's wrists.

"For a time, yes. And then they start to realise that no one ever found the body, and just maybe those stories going around are true." Zevran sighed. "It was nice while it lasted, but I was travelling with Lucien. We were always in the spotlight. It had to come to an end eventually. So, I died again, and that lasted a little longer. But, again, Lucien. If you want to stay dead, don't run around Ferelden with a hero."

"If I need to be dead, it'll be because he can't protect me any more." Pounce clambered up Anders's sleeve, curling up in the feathers on his shoulder.

"What are you running from?" Zevran asked, still studying the landscape.

"Templars, mostly. Being a Warden should make that stop. At least that's what Luke and the Queen told me."

"You've met the beautiful Lady Anora! That is a woman who knows how to rule. With a little less death and scandal, she could have been an empress. I would have stayed in Ferelden for that -- Assassin to the Empress of Ferelden. We could have taken Kirkwall, maybe some of Orlais. But, no. Her father ruined that for her." Zevran shook his head. "A beautiful woman, in every way that matters."

"She seemed competent. Maybe a little terrifying, seeing as I met her as an apostate, in front of a Templar. But, Luke conscripted me on the spot -- to be fair, I didn't realise that had the potential to be a _death sentence_ at the time. I was just happy they couldn't drag me back again. A year. In solitary. And they wonder why I run."

"I grew up in a box. I understand." Zevran laughed. "In the end, I ran, too."

"Alienage?" Anders asked.

"Crows. It's not all mayhem and glamour. That comes later."

"Then you know what it's like. Kind of."

"And if I didn't, I heard it from Lucien. You know he tried to sneak a blood mage out of the tower?"

Anders cackled. "Luke? What? No, you're kidding."

"He didn't tell you this? It's why the Arl of Redcliffe was so ill. Loghain was paying his blood mage friend to poison the man. I do not think I have ever seen Lucien so angry before or since, and that includes when I tried to kill him." Zevran shook his head. "But, he let the blood mage live -- I have never met a man more strangely willing to back his faith in the goodness of mankind with the force of his disappointment. Have you seen him disappointed? It's compelling. I have to learn that, one of these years. And that mage helped us save the arl and his son from a demon. You do not disappoint Lucien twice."

"I kind of knew Luke, when we were apprentices. Don't think I had the opportunity to disappoint him, but I knew his face. Nobody doubted he'd pass his harrowing, you know, but ... he wasn't... this. None of us saw this coming. If you told me that he'd save Thedas from a Blight, when we were still in the Circle, I'd have laughed. He really kept his head down. Even now, I can hardly imagine him trying to sneak... Wait." Anders looked at the elf beside him. "Jowan. Was the guy's name Jowan?"

"I think it was, now that you mention it."

"Shit, he didn't just help Jowan escape, he helped _me_ escape! There was so much mayhem in the halls, I just ... took advantage of the confusion, helped myself to some Templar plate, and walked out." Anders laughed, and Ser Pounce-a-lot stuck a paw on his cheek. "Andraste's ass. He'll love that. ...Won't he, Pounce?"

"You walked out of the tower dressed as a Templar? No one questioned this?" Zevran finally took his eyes off the endless sprawl of farmland and looked at Anders.

"There were Wardens visiting. Everyone assumed I was working with someone else. I put down one of the new transfers, left him next to a couple of empty bottles, grabbed his gear and left. I didn't even keep it. Left it in the bushes so I could swim across the lake. The hard part was getting out of the tower." Anders rubbed his eye with the heel of his palm and then flicked his fingers at the kitten on his shoulder.

"Artistry. And then, somehow, you ended up here, with Lucien?"

"That was stupid. I should have gone north, but I went east. I wanted my phylactery. I wanted to belong to myself, again, so they couldn't keep finding me and dragging me back. Do you know how tiring it is, knowing every time you close your eyes, that's what they're waiting for, and you could wake up in chains? I got sick of it. I wanted out -- really out." Anders sighed. "I had a friend in Amaranthine who knew what I was after, and thought she'd heard something about it. Looking back, I think they got to her. I think she turned me in. And then, when I got out from under them, she did it again."

"Beautiful women, dangerous pursuits. I'm liking this story." Zevran gracefully hoisted himself into one of the crenels, leaning against the merlon behind him and stretching his legs along the base of the crenel.

"They caught up to me in Amaranthine. Took about a week of running around before they actually got me, but... there were more of them, and I had to sleep, eventually. They decided to hold me here, until they were headed back to the Circle, but... darkspawn. Nobody saw that coming." Anders leaned his hip against the wall, kicking at the stone dust that remained from recent repairs.

"But, the Wardens..."

"Not even the Wardens. Luke was away, and everyone here was new. They came up out of the Deep Roads, into the old Avvar crypts."

"Maker's breath."

"He didn't tell you this?"

"Not like this! He said he arrived and the keep was overrun, and everyone was dead, except this charming apostate with a terrible nervous laugh." Zevran shrugged, in a poor impression of wide-eyed innocence. "I expect he didn't want me to worry."

"Terrible nervous laugh. That's great, Luke. Thanks."

"I wouldn't worry too much about it. You should hear the things he says about me. You know he once called me a wretched, thieving ass-pirate? I introduced him to my dear friend Isabela, a pirate of asses and other Northern finery, and he took it back, on the spot." There was a way Zevran spoke, as if everything were incidental and unimportant, and Anders could feel the skin tighten expectantly along his spine, as if this were only a distraction from things yet to come. "But, you were locked up when these darkspawn came?"

"Inside the keep, not in the dungeon. They wanted to keep an eye on me. Probably for the best. The beds are nicer inside. They had me all loaded up with magebane and chained, when the darkspawn came. I couldn't have saved them, if I wanted to. Not that I wanted to, particularly." Anders sighed. "I waited it out. I was very quiet and not very interesting, and behind another locked door. When the magebane wore off, I let myself out, and straight into a horde of hurlocks. Obviously, I set them on fire."

"Obviously," Zevran agreed.

"And that's when Luke barged in with a girl in platemail and a crazy, screaming dwarf."

"That is so very like Lucien."

"So, I apologised for the Templars all over the floor. I don't think the girl believed me, when I blamed the darkspawn, but I also don't think Luke cared, one way or the other. He pretty much told me I was coming with him, and if I set his ass on fire, I was a dead man, so it was in everyone's best interest if my aim was as strong as my flames. I remembered him from the circle, so it was a little weird seeing him... in charge of anything on the outside. They really don't like us getting out in the world, you know." Anders shrugged the shoulder that didn't have a cat on it. "Best offer I had, so I took it. The queen showed up after it was all over, Templars and her guard with her, and Luke... Something went on, with him and Anora. They smiled at each other, said some irrelevant tripe, and then Luke just cut off the Templar -- Rylen? Rylock? something -- right in the middle of a rant about how I was an unrepentant apostate murderer, and said he couldn't have me, because I was being conscripted. The 'murderer' thing wasn't true. Or at least it really depends on your definition of 'murder'. But, again? I really don't think Luke cared."

"Lucien has a certain fondness for murderers with style and taste." A knife had appeared in Zevran's hand, at some point, and he was cleaning his nails with it.

Something finally occurred to Anders. "Speaking of Luke, what are you doing up here?"

"He's gone to sleep. To be fair, he wasn't expecting me to suddenly appear and derail half his day. But, even by his side... the stone echoes. I can't sleep. So, here I am, thwarted in my plans to stare mournfully off into the distance, until he finds me in the morning." Zevran grinned. "He loves it when I play dramatic."

Anders huffed in amusement. "Do you want me to leave you to your dramatic posturing?"

"No, no. You are much more entertaining than sleeping peasants as far as the eye can see. What are you doing up here, so late?"

"I don't sleep much. I keep expecting to wake up to Templars, again."

"Better Crows than Templars, hmm?"

"No offence to you and yours, but Crows usually aren't lyrium junkies with a hate-on for everything I am, who can cut off my magic with a gesture. If it came to it, Crows are still flammable, and I'd still have the fire to set."

"No offence taken. It was a mage who finally took me down. I was one of the best, you know."

"Was?"

"Still am. But, I'm ... let's call it 'retired'. Or maybe I'm just on extended holiday. I'm a dead man, remember?" Zevran let his eyes wander over the lanky mage. "Ok, maybe that part of me isn't so dead. You and Lucien...?"

"Never."

"Really? I'm surprised." The knife vanished from Zevran's hands. "You don't have some silly human prejudice about elves, do you?"

"What?" Anders laughed. "No, nothing like that. I just... it never came up. Luke's a good looking guy, I just think it might be ... weird or something. He's got you. He's my boss. People would talk."

"This assumes people would know."

"The stone echoes. Everyone would know. Immediately."

"Oh. Hm. You may have a point there." An unapologetically cheerful smile lit Zevran's face. "I suppose he's going to have some explaining to do, tomorrow, then!"

"And this is why he wants me to keep you away from Bann Esmerelle. You're terrifying and horrifying, and that's just your mouth."

"You don't know half of what I can do with my mouth, or you would be much more deliciously afraid."

Anders was certainly deliciously something, and very glad to be wearing a robe. "Deliciously afraid you might blow me? Oh, the horrors."

"That would be just the beginning. The talents of my tongue go far beyond that."

"You vile tempter," Anders teased. "Don't say such things in front of my cat!"

"Ah! Little pointy ears. Shame on me." Zevran held out his hands. "May I?"

Anders scratched under the kitten's chin. "Would you like to visit with the charmingly wicked assassin, Pounce?"

Ser Pounce-a-lot mewed and pressed his cold nose against Anders's cheek.

"Pounce?" Zevran asked, accepting the little bundle of warm fluff.

"Ser Pounce-a-lot. Bravest kitty in all of Ferelden. He's survived the darkspawn attack and the local mabari. All without a scratch." Anders looked like a proud father.

"So much skill and bravery in such a tiny creature," Zevran marvelled, solemnly, nuzzling the kitten's belly. "Definitely enough to be a knight."

Lucien's voice and the sound of the door swinging closed interrupted the moment. "I should have known I'd find you up here, playing with his pussy. Why the fuck are you awake, Anders? When's the last time you slept?"

"Three hours, two hours ago?" Anders shrugged. "I'll be fine. You know it doesn't wear on me much."

"One of these days, you're going to sleep a whole night, and you'll put me to shame in the morning," Lucien conceded, joining them by the wall, wrapped in a blanket. He leaned down and nipped the tip of Zevran's ear. "Can't sleep?"

Zevran shrugged. "I took first watch."

"Asshole." Lucien wrapped his arms around the Crow's shoulders, and Zevran reluctantly handed the kitten back to Anders. "Come back to bed, lover. I'll make sure you sleep."

"Will you, now? My, my..." Zevran swung his legs down and stood up, still wrapped in Lucien's arms. "What have you got on under that blanket, hmm?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Lucien grinned and let go of Zevran, clutching the blanket as he bolted for the door that led back inside.

"If you ever get the chance," Zevran sighed, delighted, one hand pressed to his chest, "take it. I'll see you in the afternoon, you beautiful creature. And you as well, Anders." 

With that, he blew a kiss to Anders and Pounce, and raced back inside, after Lucien.

"I think we should stay right here, for a while, Pounce. If they're going to wake up the whole keep, we should not be between them and the wrath of exhausted Wardens."

Pounce mewed inquisitively.

"I'm not wrathful. Oh, you meant exhausted. I'm... not that tired. It's fine."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The afternoon comes, but things do not go quite as Anders intended... Fortunately, that's because Zevran has a deliciously wicked plan.

Lucien looked up at the sound of throat-clearing, to find Anders standing in the door of his office. "Yes?"

Anders took in the scene, before responding. The Warden-Commander looked pale and rumpled, a pen in one hand, and piles of documents stacked haphazardly across his desk. His other hand tugged tensely at his hair.

"You asked me to occupy Zevran, this afternoon, so you could meet with Bann Esmerelle? But, if he's not here, I'll just go looking." Anders paused. "He's a nice guy, Luke. You did well. ...And you probably want to throw some water on your face and change, before Esmerelle gets here. You're looking a little rough."

"He'll be with you in a minute. Just wait in the hall." Lucien looked terribly distracted. "Oh, and Anders? Take the door with you when you go."

Anders looked like he might have something else to say, but the Warden-Commander's insistent look moved him along. Seconds after he pulled the door shut, he realised why, and had it confirmed almost immediately.

" _Yes!_ Zev... Why! Why do you do this to me when I'm working!? No, don't _stop!_ Keep -- yes! That! Harder!"

Zevran had been right. The stone did echo, and the gaps under the keep's wooden doors did nothing to keep the sound out of the halls. Good to know, Anders decided, if he ever decided to get up to anything.

He leaned against the wall opposite the door, listening to the Warden-Commander have what sounded like a mind-blowing, heart-stopping orgasm. Anders was willing to envy that. Anything that could make _Luke_ sound like that...

A few moments of silence passed, and then, "Zev? I love you. I love to love you. I love it when you do that. But, get the fuck out of my office. Literally, as well as figuratively."

"You would like me to take my fuck elsewhere? I can do that. But, just remember that you asked!"

The sound of a slap against leather did not echo down the hall, but Anders still heard it clearly.

"Ooh! You better kiss that and make it better, later, hero."

"OUT. I have to get ready for this meeting, and that's not going to happen with you standing here."

"Fine, fine. I'm going. I know he's waiting in the hall. But, don't clean yourself up too much, mi amore. I like this look on you."

"And another reason you're not invited."

The door swung open, and Zevran stepped out, looking slightly dishevelled, cheeks still reddened, and not with shame. Winking, he blew a kiss to Lucien, before hooking his arm through Anders's. "You are going to show me around, yes? A look up the keep's skirts, as it were?"

"Sounds like you've already had a look up Luke's skirts, today, which is probably the best view you'll get in here," Anders teased, leading him down the hall.

"I didn't think you'd know that."

"I'd have to be blind." Anders paused and pointed at himself. "Oh. Right. Healer. I've seen it all, whether I wanted to or not. Not that I mind Luke, but I mind him even less when he's not covered in blood and holding his organs in with one hand."

"Ah, the healer's curse, to have seen more of every man than any man wanted to see. Is my Lucien still leaving chunks of his spleen all over the Deep Roads, then?" Zevran's smile seemed honest and bright, as if he hadn't a concern in the world.

"I'm pretty sure I put most of them back in, before I closed him up. Did he always do that, then?"

"Did you know Enchanter Wynne? That magnificently regal woman with the splendid bosom?" Zevran gestured, as he spoke, to make his point. "I ask because you and Lucien are from the same Circle."

"I knew Wynne. Actually, I knew Wynne pretty well. She was my teacher."

"Ah! Of course. Healer." Zevran nodded. "It was Wynne who used to put his pieces back together. Always complaining about how he didn't watch for his own safety. She and me and Alistair who went with him, in Denerim..." He trailed off, and the lightness left him, for a moment. "It's good to see the power hasn't changed him."

"I get the sense that Luke is the proverbial immovable object. It would take a lot to change him. Speaking of which, is he always so rude to you?"

"Oh, yes, you were standing in the hall... So you heard the rest of that, as well. No, he is only so rude to me when I absolutely deserve it. I tease until he bites, and I would never pretend it was otherwise. I do so like being bit, sometimes."

"And spanked, if I read that pause right," Anders teased.

"It just makes my knees weak," Zevran purred, leaning more heavily on Anders's arm.

"Luke would never forgive me if I let you fall on your ass. Do I need to carry you through the keep, so you don't swoon at the thought of another swat?"

"Oh, you mages, and your big, strong... arms." Zevran's teasing smile shot through Anders like a misfired tempest -- sharp, electrical, and _wrong_.

"Seriously, though, are you actually flirting, or do you just run your mouth to see how long it'll take before someone punches you in the teeth?" Anders asked.

"Oh, both. Absolutely both. I am no longer in a position in which most people's opinions of me have any relevance to my survival or my lifestyle. Sometimes, I just ... push, just to see how far politesse will let it go."

Anders laughed. "I can see why Luke likes you."

"Oh, no. No, I was different, once. This is not why he likes me, although he loves me no less as I am, than as I was. I was one of the most dangerous men in Antiva -- to be honest, I am more dangerous now -- and when I failed to kill him, he spared my life. And when I said I had nothing left to live for, he took me with him. I don't know what he expected. I don't know what he saw. But, it wasn't this."

"He just does that, doesn't he? Nate tried to kill him, too. He brags that it took four wardens to bring him down. And Luke... I don't even know. I think he just flipped him upside down and shook him until the dumb fell out."

"You have a particular way with words, healer." The sparkle in Zevran's eyes was genuine amusement.

"I'd better. I can read in five languages, and the punchlines are just as bad in all of them."

"A linguist! I wonder what else you can do with your tongue..."

Anders licked his lip and stopped in the middle of the hall. "Do you want to know? Because my bed is on the other side of that door, and I'd be happy to demonstrate."

"Under the skirts of the keep, under the skirts of another mage..." Zevran lifted an eyebrow.

"I was headed for the kitchen, so we could get some lunch. But, if there's something else you want from me, here's the place for it."

"Are you offering, or are you calling me on my shit?"

"If it's just shit, I'm calling you on it. If you're serious..." Anders swallowed. "I'm offering."

"Then I will make a counteroffer. Let us go to the kitchen and gather some things with which to eat, drink, and make merry. And then, let us come back here and make merry enough that no one but Luke will look us in the eye for days to come," Zevran proposed.

"I've got two sovereigns that says we can drive the seneschal to drink." Anders clapped Zevran on the back.

"I have a feeling that if I accept that wager, I will end up owing you two sovereigns," Zevran reasoned. "Tell me, what are the chances of some brandy, maybe a little cheese, fruit, cream, and a bowl of butter?"

"Butter?"

Zevran raised his eyebrows, suggestively.

"Grease spell."

"Butter stays fluffy for a while before it melts. I will teach you things that will impress your lovers for years to come." Zevran reached back and tucked a thumb into Anders's belt.

"Oh, yeah, sure. A professional killer is going to teach _me_ to fuck..." Anders scoffed, as they passed a couple of soldiers, headed the other way, one of whom elbowed the other and turned around to watch them go.

"That sounds like a challenge. Fucking was the family business. I learnt from the best," Zevran warned, bumping Anders with his hip.

"You grew up in a box, Crow. Your own words." Anders poked Zevran in the chest and swung the kitchen door open with the side of his foot.

"That was later, after my Auntie Lorraine sold me to the Crows. Beautiful woman, Auntie Lorraine, and very talented. Five sovereigns for a slice of her time. I think she was once Orlesian. I think. I was young. I couldn't tell if she was faking the accent."

The way Zevran moved, Anders almost didn't see him pick up the bowl. He let go of Anders's belt and moved through the kitchen like he belonged there, elbows close, never looking anyone in the eye, but wholly aware of where everyone in the room was and what they were doing. Anders was extremely aware of that sudden shift between bragging, impolitic killer and elven servant, and the smoothness left him that much more wary of the Warden-Commander's lover.

Zevran dressed to a different station than the keep's kitchen staff, but the way he moved among them, all of them obviously thought he belonged to one of the banns, come to bring refreshment to some unscheduled emergency meeting. Anders leaned beside the door, picking at a loaf of bread, watching the master at work. Lucien had done _so well_ \-- but that was Lucien. 'Oh, yes, you have amazing talents. Well, I'm going to save Ferelden from the blight. Come along... Troubles? Let me set those on fire for you. Can't have you distracted from my work.' And with the way Zevran flirted like he breathed, it was no wonder they'd ended up in some strange, semi-permanent tryst.

With a wink, Zevran stepped past him, back out into the hall, with a tray laden with food in one hand and two bottles of the Warden-Commander's best Antivan brandy in the other.

"Luke's going to kill us," Anders muttered, following him out.

"Why do you think he keeps the brandy? It's mine. If Lucien wants some, he can lick it off me, later." Coming to a corner of the hall, Zevran stopped suddenly, and Anders bumped into him. "Tell me about the room with your bed. Is it just your room, or is it the Warden bunkroom...?"

"Just mine. We don't have enough Wardens in all of Ferelden to be fighting over the good rooms, yet."

"Does it have a bath?"

"No, I have to share the bath with Nate and Oghren and some of the soldiers."

"Then we are going to my room, instead. This I do know how to find." Zevran turned the other way down the hall. "I appreciate warm and clean, when I have the option available, and it is very definitely available in a place so civilised as this."

"This is civilised?" Anders scoffed.

"I have a room with a bath, and elves and mages are regarded as men like any others. It's more civilised than Denerim, don't you think?"

"I think you're a lot more dangerous than Lucien lets on."

"You were not expecting a well-educated assassin? For shame. Of all people, you should know better than to have expectations."

"On the contrary, my life has been surprisingly predictable, to this point, with only a handful of notable exceptions -- namely you and Luke."

"But, you haven't much enjoyed your life, to this point, have you? Perhaps it's time to look away from what should be happening and start seeing what could be happening. Don't ignore what's there. Just ask yourself how you could better exploit it."

"Boyfriend's busy, so you lure the resident sex god back to your room, for an afternoon of buttery good times?"

"For one, yes." Zevran smiled pleasantly up at Anders.

Zevran turned and backed into a door, pushing it open.

"Wait, no. This is _Luke's_ room." Anders stopped and looked around, as if expecting to see a door to a room he didn't know was occupied.

"Of course it is. Where did you think I was staying? And since I'm staying in it, it's my room, which I am bringing you back to."

"Because he's going to love that. I'm going to do his boyfriend on his bed, in his room, while he's in a meeting with the bann we all want to choke the life out of?" Anders raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "I could just go ask Oghren to knock my head off, for as well as that's going to end."

"You underestimate Lucien. Come, did he not ask you to keep me occupied by _whatever means you saw fit_? Was this not after I made clear my intentions toward you? He knows exactly what I'm doing. And if there's a spot on his pillow that smells of you, I'm sure he'll press my face into it, later." Zevran shrugged, entirely unconcerned. "Lucien is more giving than you expect. Again with your expectations."

"If I get killed, it's on you." Anders sighed, following him into the room. "Of course, you are an assassin, so ..."

"That's professional. This is not." A hint of warning flashed through Zevran's eyes as he set down the bottles and the tray on the table beside the bed, moving Lucien's pile of books out of the way.

"Luke was professional, and look where that got you."

"Lucien was different. That is not a situation I will find myself in again, if only because I will be dead. I tried to charm him into it, you know, slitting my lovely throat. But, I was too beautiful to die. And he was so very handsome." Sitting on the footboard of the bed, Zevran slid his boots off. "I will make myself less beautiful, the next time I ask someone to kill me. It will be easier."

"I can't imagine you begging for death..." Anders had no idea what to do with his hands, but his eyes lingered on the striking elf, now bootless.

"Good. Because I didn't." Zevran caught one of Anders's nervous hands and looked up at him. "Healer, now is not the time to fear me."

"Is it not? Seemed like the perfect time for it, to me. I'm gorgeous when I'm terrified. Ask any Templar." Anders pulled his hand free and laid it against Zevran's cheek. "It smells like Luke, in here."

"Are you so disinterested in Lucien?" Zevran asked, tilting his head to stand with the hand. "I do not think he is disinterested in you."

"Disinterested? No. Terrified? Yes." Anders laughed, running his finger and thumb along the curve of Zevran's ear.

"As you say, you're gorgeous when you're terrified."

"Cheater," Anders mumbled, as Zevran pulled him into a kiss.

"Grandmaster," Zevran corrected, on the next breath.

That was all it took. Anders hauled the Crow up by his fluttery Orlesian shirt and tossed him backward onto the Warden-Commander's enormous bed. Catching one of Zevran's feet, Anders grinned, then dragged his tongue along the sole.

"We'll see about that."

"You are even more beautiful, when you are overconfident." Zevran grinned, and the game was _on_.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY SOMEONE GETS NAKED! Actually, two someones get naked. And there is a bit of fun with scars, some pointed remarks, and some truly terrible flirtation. I should probably apologise for cutting this short, but there is somewhere this story would like to get, and it's pulling so hard I'm having trouble filling in the spaces between.

Zevran stretched, getting comfortable on Lucien's bed, as Anders's tongue darted between his toes. The healer's thumbs sunk into spots on the sole of his foot that he knew well, and Lucien had never gotten the hang of, for all his multitudinous talents. But, Anders knew exactly where and how hard to press, and the tension of the last weeks of travel slowly unwound.

"You've been here almost a day," Anders pointed out. "Doesn't Luke take care of you?"

"Oh, he takes _very_ good care of me, but not like that. I usually have to go to a healer for that. And here you are. Lucky me."

"Well, if I'm going to take reckless advantage of you, I need to make sure you're in shape for it." Anders switched to the other foot, and Zevran made some contented sounds as he stretched again, in ways that best displayed the lines of his body.

As Anders continued to lick and knead, Zevran used his other foot to toy with the feathers Anders wore. "It strikes me as terribly amusing that you should be the feathered one of us."

"I like feathers. They make me feel glamorous." Anders brushed aside the remark and sunk his teeth into the back of Zevran's ankle, hands travelling up to knead the assassin's calf.

Zevran's eyes drifted closed, a contented smile smeared across his face. "This should make you feel glamorous. You have the deadliest man in Antiva purring like a kitten under your hands. Still, there's something to be said for the appeal of a few feathers."

"And just think of all the uses I can put them to, later." Anders worked his way up Zevran's leg, letting the encouraging groans and sighs guide his fingers.

After a time, Anders had worked his way all the way up one leg and all the way down the other, and now knelt across both, with his robe hiked up to his knees, and his hands cradling Zevran's hips so the bones pressed along the ball of his thumbs, down into the heels of his hands. He squeezed, gently, and the sound that poured out of Zevran was pure delight.

"So, that's quite a codpiece," Anders remarked, sliding his hands across the leather to unlace along the sides of it.

"I wouldn't trust what's under it to anything less. Finely crafted armour-grade leather, curved to redistribute any impact along a less devastating path. Your friend Nate would do well to invest similarly." Zevran lifted his hips as Anders worked the leather down over them, slowly baring his skin. "Four wardens to bring him down? I hope Lucien has raised the standard of training since then."

"Most of the training has been in active combat. There's only six of us left, and the darkspawn won't stay in the Deep Roads." Anders worked backward, sliding the leather down Zevran's legs and himself back off the bed.

"Six is still more than the two who held off the Blight. I'm sure you'll be fine." Zevran half-sat up, twisting in some thoroughly implausible way, before depositing his complicated Orlesian shirt on the floor, beside the bed, leaving him in nothing but the slim chain around his neck, a wide gold ring hanging from it.

More than a few breaths passed, Anders standing at the foot of the bed, clutching Zevran's leathers in one hand.

"Yes, it's a beautiful view, but it's even better, up close." Zevran held out a hand.

Anders tossed the leathers in the direction of the shirt and missed, before climbing back onto the bed, trailing one hand up Zevran's side from the ankle to the chest. A long, smouldering look passed between them, interrupted when Anders grabbed the Crow's shoulder and flipped him onto his belly.

"The view would be better, if the lines weren't wrong," he muttered, digging his thumbs into Zevran's back, just below the shoulder blades.

"You don't even know what right looks like on me!" Zevran teased.

"I don't have to know. You know. You'll show me when it's right." A wave of healing, then half his weight on the heel of his hand -- there. Zevran's upper back crunched like gravel settling.

"Were I not so very in love with Lucien, he might have some serious competition, right now," Zevran muttered into the pillow.

"It's a good thing you met him first. I'm a lot less forgiving." Anders continued to knead, mostly with the heels and sides of his hands, working his way down Zevran's back. Neither of them commented on how closely Anders's hands followed a particular set of very old, worn scars that seemed to mark tension lines and pressure points.

"You're also a lot less deadly. Had I met you first -- had you been the one -- I think we would not be having this conversation, one way or the other. I am glad it was not you, or I wouldn't have you here, now."

"And here, now, is where you want me. Where you need me, really. What did you even do to yourself?" Anders settled the heel of one hand just above the back of Zevran's hips. "No, don't tell me. I don't want to know. Just tip your hips a little... there."

Anders shifted his weight, and Zevran made a sound somewhere between pain and desire as his back produced a hollow thump. His hand clutched at the blanket and his hips tilted up, offering his shapely ass, as he panted against the pillow.

The next crack was Anders's hand against that shapely elven ass. "Not yet."

"That? That is the absolutely worst way to discourage me." A single breathy wheeze of amusement followed.

"Perhaps I don't want to discourage you. Perhaps I just want to bribe you with a taste of what's yet to come."

"I know what's yet to come, and if I'm going to taste it, perhaps you should stop wearing so much."

"Not. Yet," Anders huffed.

" _You_ are _such_ a tease!"

Anders landed another slap across the other cheek, and his fingers lingered, tracing some pale lines carved there. "Is that Elvish?" he asked, squinting at the scars.

"Oh, shit. Is that still legible?" Zevran laughed and buried his face in the pillow. "Yes, it's Elvish. I don't want to talk about it. Let's just say I made someone _very_ angry, and now they're dead, and I have some very naughty words on my hip. You don't read Elvish, do you?"

"No..." Anders squinted at it. "But, I know it when I see it."

"Good. Those words are _not_ something I want to explain."

"In all the times someone has put their displeasure across my skin, I don't think anyone has used _words_." Anders kneaded the muscle under his hands, caressing Zevran's ass. "At least, if there are words, no one's pointed them out to me."

"It's a very special kind of angry that ends in words, I think."

"I wasn't important enough to need a warning label."

"You can stop flattering me, boy. I'm already naked."

Anders wondered how old the elf actually was. "Yes, but you're not buried in me so deep I've forgotten my own name."

"And whose fault is that, hm?"

"Oh, we'll get there. I'm not done with you, yet. I haven't even started." Squeezing and kneading still, Anders leaned down and pressed a kiss to Zevran's tailbone. "Does Luke tell you what a gorgeous ass you have? Or are you just innately aware of the beauty of your own lines, without the help?"

"He's written me entire letters that say little else. Do you intend to wax rhapsodic, as well? I understand it's a common reaction."

"No, I intend to put my tongue to better use." Anders darted the tip of his tongue against Zevran's hole, and everything the Crow meant to say left him in a rush of breath.

This was yet another thing Anders knew how to do, from long hours of practice, in the Circle. Mostly in closets and behind convenient statues, as opposed to anywhere his technique might be judged by onlookers, but his talents in this regard had never been criticised, nor would they be, now. Anders plundered the hole, with his tongue, kissing and licking, pressing in just the tip, revelling in the feel of Zevran's body trying to draw him further in.

After several minutes of drawing the most delectable sounds from the Crow, Anders drew back, wiping the spit from his face, and playfully bit the engraved ass-cheek.

"You know? I think that is the first time a man has kissed my ass with more fervour than he could spare for my lips," Zevran teased.

"Yes, well, with you naked there are a lot fewer places you could be concealing weapons. It's easier to be enthusiastic."

"You are a mage. I am an assassin. Do either of us actually _require_ weapons, to be dangerous? I think not." Zevran rolled onto his back, displacing Anders as he moved, and reached out to grab a handful of raspberries from the bedside table. "Enough procrastinating. You have pushed your tongue into the most intimate parts of me, and I have not even seen your bare elbows. Off with the robe. Come lie with me, and we will fill ourselves with fruit and each other."

"I don't..." Anders started, but opened his belt and hung it on the footboard. "This isn't something I usually take my clothes off to do."

"You read the Elvish inscription on my ass. Whatever you have under that robe will not be nearly the blow to either of our dignities." Zevran licked raspberry juice off his fingers, eyes never leaving Anders.

"Actually, I didn't read it, and I have no idea what it says, other than that it's not complimentary." Anders's fingers twitched as he unfastened his robe, his breaths coming shorter and quicker.

"After I go back to my own war, go ask Lucien what it says. He read it. I had to stop him from getting dressed again, with promises the responsible party was already deceased, and that there was simply no point in crossing to Rivain to piss on a grave, when we were on such a tight schedule." Dipping his fingers in the bowl of sweet cream, Zevran let it drip off his fingers into his mouth, as his other hand smoothed across the planes of his chest. 

"Because that's not going to be weird. Oh, yeah, Luke, what's that scar on your boyfriend's butt say? I noticed it while I was _eating his ass_." A fastening loop tore as Anders pulled the robe off his shoulders and shoved it down, trying to hide the nervous shiver that ran through him. His arms reflexively crossed in front of him, as the robe dropped to the floor, hands spread to disrupt the patterns in the scarring between his shoulders and his hips.

Zevran sucked the last of the cream off his fingers and held out his hand. "Come to me, healer. Let me see you with my hands, and not my eyes, though I'll tell you my eyes have no complaints with what they see."

Anders crawled up the bed, the scent of Luke thick in the blanket on that side, which was _not helping_ , he decided, as he lay on his side, beside Zevran. "I'm not a blood mage," he muttered, more to himself than anything, before finally moving his hand away from his chest.

Zevran's fingers were on him almost instantly, spread between the fan of lines. The Crow knew, and his lips tightened, subtly. "You are still here. I presume you did not confess."

"No. I never would have." Anders reached across Zevran and helped himself to a chunk of cheese. "But, I almost gave in to the temptation of blood magic. I was bleeding anyway. It would have been so little effort to make it all go away, but then I would have been exactly the kind of guilty they wanted me to be, and I couldn't give them that."

"Then this is a mark of your honour that you hide." Zevran moved his hand and replaced his palm with his lips.

Anders arched and nearly choked on the cheese as Zevran's tongue chased the stripes on his chest.

"Mmm. It's one of _those_ scars, is it? No wonder you keep it covered. How terrible it would be for someone to taste it, to trace it, to stroke it..." All of which he did, in turn, leaving Anders panting through his teeth, chewing at his own lip. 

"How terrible it would be for someone to leave you panting and throbbing, in full knowledge of your strength and beauty." Zevran's hand wandered down, fingers tracing along Anders's thickening length. "You _are_ beautiful, healer."

"I'm three days unshaven and covered in the scars of my failure to escape my destiny," Anders argued, half-heartedly.

"It looks good on you," Zevran insisted, pressing a wet and passionate kiss to another scar. "Proof of your value as a healer."

"That I couldn't heal _myself_?" Anders snapped.

"That you know pain. You know what it is to go without healing. You know what the flesh will handle, left to itself." Zevran's fingers found another scar, in an unexpected place. "I thought I was the only one with scars there," he laughed.

"Clearly not, more's the pity. I'd have been a much better person without it."

"But, would you be as good a lover?"

Anders rolled over, pinning Zevran to the bed with hands around his wrists, gold eyes flashing. "Bit of a dangerous question, don't you think?"

Scattering bites along Zevran's neck and collar, Anders went on. "Pointless question, too, since you'll never know the answer, and neither will I. You've got me as I am, and that's all I am. This is all there is."

"Give me more of this." Zevran lifted his thigh between Anders's legs, pressing gently against him. "Show me what you are."


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Porn. It's four goddamn thousand words of porn. Zevran/Anders/M!Surana. Anders sandwich, which may be my new favourite kind of sandwich.

They lost track of time in and on each other, smears of fruit and cream, splashes of sweat and spunk littering the bedspread; bites, scratches, and tiny bruises littering their skin. Zevran's hand clutched at the scars on Anders's chest, and Anders kept a hand on Zevran's thigh, where it wrapped around his own, as the Crow pounded relentlessly into him, from behind. And so it was that Anders was the first to see the door open.

Panic shot through him, crackling along his palms and the bottoms of his feet. "Luke! Maker's breath, I'm sorry."

Lucien stepped into the room, cool and silent, closing the door behind him, after a moment. His expression remained still as he took in the scene before him, Zevran smiling mischievously at him, over Anders's shoulder. He ran a hand through his hair and walked into the bathroom, as if he were alone, and the sound of splashing water followed his exit.

"This... This is exactly what it looks like, and I told him it was a terrible idea, but you _know_ how convincing--"

Lucien leaned out of the bathroom door, face dripping and amusement gleaming in his eyes. "Now, Anders, don't let me scare the fuck out of you. I think Zevran's still using it."

Anders could feel Zevran laughing against his back, as Lucien went back to his ablutions.

"Tell me, healer, will you invite him to join us?" Zevran asked, grinding slow and hard against Anders.

"It's his bed. It's not my place to invite." Anders reasoned, quietly, rolling his hips, eyes sliding shut.

"It's your warm and beautiful body. Will you share it with us both?" Zevran breathed against his shoulder.

"I'm in his bed, with his boyfriend's dick up my ass. He'll have me, if he wants me."

"Husband, actually," Lucien corrected, sitting on the edge of the bed, robe hanging open.

Anders's eyes shot open. "You didn't tell me that! You never corrected me _once!_ "

"Zevran lets people make their own assumptions, don't you, dear?" Lucien reached over Anders, without touching him, to ghost his fingers across Zevran's cheek.

"It didn't seem important. Besides, why do you think I have a ring hanging around my neck, hmm?" Zevran bit the back of Anders's shoulder.

"It didn't look like it would fit any of your fingers," Anders protested.

"It doesn't fit any of my _fingers_."

Lucien shot Zevran a sharp look. "Nevermind his fingers, for now. Do you mind me looking at you, Anders?"

"Luke, I've seen parts of your spleen. I don't think it matters."

Zevran ran a soothing hand over Anders's chest. "That's not the question he asked, healer. Put aside the politics, which you have been unable to do, all day, I notice, and tell him the truth, whatever it is."

Anders closed his eyes, dizzy, the rushing feeling pulling at his skin, as if he were falling. "I don't mind."

"And would you let me touch you?" Lucien's voice was cool and quiet, no expectations, no demands.

Anders swallowed, palms crackling, fingers tingling. "I would."

"And would you enjoy that, or would you just let me?"

Finally, Anders looked up. "Well, I'm not going to know that, until you start touching, am I?"

"An invitation?" That uncannily expressionless voice was what made the banns stumble over their words, what had once made the queen uncertain of the extent of her alliances, what had backed down Templars.

"Yes." Anders swallowed again. "Touch me, Luke."

Lucien shrugged out of his robe, pushing it off the bed as he stretched out on his side, in front of Anders. He lifted his hand to one ear, tapping the gold ring there. "He has that. I have this. And now, we have you."

Lucien's hand cupped Anders's cheek, thumb stroking the stubble. "You must understand, this changes nothing between us."

Anders looked honestly confused. "Why would it?"

"Because some people are like that," Zevran whispered against his back. "You touch them, taste them, and they fall in love."

"That's... not a problem I have," Anders scoffed. "Never have been, and not going to start now."

"He sounds just like you, Zev," Lucien teased.

"Mmm. And now, now I will tell the story about this ring. Well, maybe that ring, first, then this ring." Zevran rolled his hips. "Don't think talking is going to make me stop."

"It never does. I think we rewrote the text of an entire treaty, that one night, and you didn't stop once." Lucien laughed and ran a hand down Anders's chest, completely unmindful of the scars. "You have to understand, when this began, I didn't even have a hole in which to put this ring."

"He killed my best friend," Zevran began, tucking his hand between Anders's legs and rolling the healer's balls against his palm. "To be fair, the man had just tried to kill me. Both of us, really. It was my failed contract he was cleaning up after. He tried to convince me to go back home with him. To give up Lucien and come back to the Crows. But, I knew in that moment, we had never really been friends. I had seen what 'friends' were like, among Crows. I had been like that, once. And Lucien, well, he may still kill me, some day, but it will be honest, and without malice, and I will have brought it on myself."

"If I kill you, you will absolutely have brought it on yourself. Keeping me aboveground long after I should have gone to the Deep Roads," Lucien grumbled, shifting himself down to kiss along the underside of Anders's jaw.

"But, I ... the way you stood by me, Lucien. The way you never doubted me, for an instant. The way your eyes flashed when he threatened _me_ , but stood still when he turned the same on you... I knew. I knew I had thrown away my entire life, and there was no going back." Zevran pulled Anders closer to him, rocking his hips and grinding in. "And I didn't want to go back, because I had you. I had you, I loved you, and I only wish I could have said it, then."

"You would have saved me a month of fuckless aching and the company of my hand," Lucien griped, dragging his short nails down Anders's abs. "But, I wore it for you. I knew what you meant, even if you had to be difficult about it. Straight out of your hand and into my ear, which was a shitty choice, on my part. Wynne had to clean that up for me."

"I am so sorry, caro." Zevran laughed quietly against Anders's spine.

"So, wait." Anders rocked his hips back against Zevran, pressing down against where the assassin's palm met his pelvic arch. "You gave him an earring. He put it in, right there, and you ... stopped fucking him?"

"I was stupid! I'd never been in love! I thought there was something wrong with me!"

"There was something wrong with you! Even Anders can see it!" Lucien complained swirling a finger around the tip of Anders's cock. "And it was nothing that a mouthful of my dick wouldn't have fixed!"

"Which, as I recall, is how that ended up being fixed. You were so hard and so offended, the sight of you was breathtaking. There and then, I surrendered to you. To your mouth, to your hands, to your pole in every hole I had to offer. You demanded answers, and I didn't know what they were, but you wrung them out of me, and my bed became our bed." The memory pushed him to thrust more intently into Anders.

"To the continued displeasure of the rest of his guests, I might add." Lucien leaned in something on the bed and brought his his nose. "Is that butter?"

"I told you a grease spell--" Anders started.

"No, it wouldn't," Lucien cut him off, sitting up to reach over them for the bowl.

Anders opened his mouth and dragged his tongue along whatever parts of Lucien's body came close enough to taste, and the Warden-Commander shifted around until Anders's mouth closed around the head of his cock.

"Does this please you?" Lucien asked, amused.

The only response was a contented hum that resonated back along his length.

"As delightful as I find your tongue, this is not what I had in mind."

Anders hummed inquisitively, tongue fluttering teasingly around the flesh in his mouth.

After a brief and silent conversation of eyebrows and smiles, Zevran cut in. "He wants you inside him. I know that look."

Anders froze. "What?" he sputtered around the cock in his mouth, drooling down his cheek.

"No? Very well. I'll settle for what you'll give me." Lucien reached down and stroked Anders's cheek.

"No! What? No, not no. Yes. Wait, what?" Anders pressed his tongue against Lucien to shut himself up, while he remembered how to breathe. "That's not no. That's just surprised."

"Surprised?" Lucien pulled back and squirmed back down the bed, bowl of butter in one hand. "Is it so hard to believe that I would want you to warm me from the inside? It's hardly the first time I'll have had some part of you inside me."

"Andraste's tits, Luke, that's disgusting." Anders huffed in amusement.

"And very true, for all that I don't generally have the presence of mind to be excited by you fondling my liver."

"Please stop having your liver out, mi amore." Zevran rested his chin on Anders's shoulder. "It's so very unhealthy."

"I keep telling him that," Anders muttered. "He doesn't listen to me."

"Gentlemen! Peace! You don't become a legendary hero by keeping your organs inside your body! That's what you have talented and lovely healers for." Lucien let his hand wander over Anders's skin. "And you are that much more lovely bared and enthused, Anders."

"I knew I should have shaved, today..."

"Nonsense. It's exotic." Lucien leaned forward and rubbed his cheek over Anders's stubble. "You humans are just deliciously fuzzy."

Anders reeled. Exotic? Well, he was in bed with two elves. Exotic was definitely an improvement over annoying, disgusting, or barbaric. He finally lifted a hand and cupped it around Lucien's hip, stroking the smooth skin there.

"Not a mark on you," Anders muttered into Lucien's neck.

"Of course not. It's a testament to how well I choose my healers." Lucien took Anders's hand and dipped the fingers into the bowl between them, crossing his leg over Zevran's, to hold Anders more firmly.

Anders took the hint and reached between Lucien's legs, slowly working two fingers into him, as Lucien made encouraging sounds against his ear. Lucien's greasy fingers wrapped around them both, and he rocked his hips against Anders from the front, as Zevran continued to grind into the healer from behind.

"Watching you... Do you know what I think of, seeing you like this, caro?" Zevran raised himself over Anders's shoulder to kiss Lucien.

"Tell me." Lucien smiled against Zevran's lips. "I think I know, but he doesn't. So, tell me, my love."

"The day we were to be wed, you put that ring on me. I thought it was a joke. Just a little kink between us, to keep the ceremony interesting -- which, I will not lie, it definitely did --but, later. After the blessings and the drinks and Alistair putting that fine supper up on the Reverend Mother's fine Orlesian shoes." Zevran's hips moved in time with the rhythm of his words.

"Oh, that later--"

"That later. When I spread myself before you and asked for nothing. And you, you heartless tease, you took your time." Zevran bit the corner of Anders's jaw. "And then you eased that ring off me, brought me off with just one kiss. Your lips barely touched me and --"

"And you painted my face white."

Lucien's voice was soft and warm against Anders's ear, Zevran's breath against his neck, and the healer writhed between them, silently, eyes closed, breathing deeply, hanging on every word, every breath, every thrust and stroke.

"Ah, but before I could even apologise, you had your fingers inside me, pressing the tip of your tongue against my aching, _aching_ slit for those last few drops. You tormented me all night long with your accursed Warden stamina." Zevran paused to kiss Lucien again. "But, looking down at you, then, I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. Foolish time, since I'd already married you, but that was a matter of devotion, not duration. And I knew you would die young. I still know. But, I would have you with me until that bitter, screaming end. That was when I knew I would follow you into the Deep Roads, and we would go out together, as we came in alone."

A shudder ran through Anders, and he drew a long, stuttering breath as he spilled across Lucien's fingers.

"So very romantic, beloved, as ever you are. But, I think you broke my toy." Lucien lifted his head and looked down at Anders.

"Accursed Warden stamina says three minutes?" Anders offered an apologetic shrug. 

"Three minutes? My, my... How long have the two of you been at each other?" Lucien teased.

"When did I leave your office?" Zevran asked. "A little less long than that."

"And all over my bed is him, not you." It wasn't a question.

"Some of it is me. I take a little while to bounce back, but a loooong time to go. I don't have to tell you this. You know exactly how much of this mess is mine." Zevran's grin was audible.

"Laundry's going to hate us," Lucien laughed, still stroking Anders.

"Laundry's going to hate us more for the butter," Anders pointed out, curling his fingers inside Lucien.

Lucien threw his head back and rolled his hips. "If you don't start recovering, _right now_ , Anders, I'm going to hate us. Give me more fingers."

"He's pushy, but he's very pretty, when you give him what he wants." Zevran pulled his hand up a bit, tightening his half-grip on Anders's balls.

"Another finger's easy enough, but he's more than pretty enough even without it." Anders curled his fingers and twisted his hand until he could begin to press a third finger in.

"He's also murderous when he's frustrated. I got to watch that for a whole month, once, and I do not think I have ever seen so many people spontaneously combust, before or after that point. All his charming diplomacy, right out the window."

"Because you're a fucking tease, Zevran," Lucien growled, pushing himself back onto Anders's fingers. "And so are you, Anders. _More._ You're a healer. You can make it fit."

Anders stopped moving and tipped his head back to look at Lucien. "How much, exactly, do you want me to fit?"

"Your whole hand. Half your forearm." Lucien tensed, shuddering, as Anders stroked his insides.

"I'm a healer, not a miracle worker," Anders scoffed.

"He may not be kidding," Zevran warned. "This wouldn't be the first time."

"Not the fi-- Zevran, show me your hand," Anders demanded.

Rather than release Anders's balls, Zevran rolled them against his palm again, before working his other arm under Anders. He wiggled his fingers. Anders was somewhat surprised to note that the hand of the little, skinny, backstabbing elf was actually wider across the knuckles, than his own.

"You actually fit..."

"Yes," they both answered.

"Well, it's not going to happen at this angle," Anders pointed out.

"Don't do that thing to him that you did to me, that first time, hm? I'm sure he doesn't need a broken wrist. I didn't need a broken wrist, either."

"You just didn't want to explain yourself to Wynne," Lucien teased.

"You didn't want to explain me to Wynne either!"

"Well, this time we have a healer _in bed with us_ , don't we?"

"Please don't break my wrist, Luke." Anders handed himself more butter and worked another finger in.

Lucien panted and made no promises, rocking his hips hard between his hand and Anders's knuckles.

Even still clutched in Lucien's hand, Anders was flagging. It wasn't that he didn't want more so much as that Zevran had made the very best of that legendary Warden stamina, in all the ways only a man who had spent a lot of time in bed with a legendary Grey Warden could do, and Anders... was not nearly as legendary or as bullheadedly determined as Lucien. Still, he moved with them both, as they pleasured themselves in him and on him. 

This was not something Anders had envisioned himself in the middle of, even as late as Lucien returning from his meeting. This was supposed to have ended in him getting his ass kicked and thrown to the mabari, he was sure, not in the Warden-Commander's gorgeous, naked body wrapped around him, riding his fingers with breathy demands for more.

But, here he was, fucked hollow and covered in spunk, fruit juice, and butter, knuckles-deep in the Hero of Ferelden, with a lovely and very Antivan assassin still taking advantage of his well-fucked ass. It was, he decided, time to make things more interesting, and the tiniest spark of electricity shot across the fingertips pressed against Lucien's insides.

A raw sound tore out of Lucien, as every muscle in his body flexed and he spattered Anders's abs. A minute passed, as Lucien tried to remember where he'd left things like his fingers, his face, his left leg.

"That was amazing! What did you do?" Zevran enthused, wiping some of the spatter off Anders that he might lick it from his fingers. "Can you teach that to me?"

"Dirty mage tricks," Anders replied, smugly, drumming his fingers inside Lucien.

And then Lucien turned it on him, a jolt of electricity racing down his length and seeming to crackle through the bowl of his hips. And there was that Warden stamina. Or something. Anders throbbed desperately in Lucien's hand.

Anders twisted to meet Lucien's lips in a rough and demanding kiss, but of course, Lucien was still grinning dangerously, eyes all alight with wicked intent, and Anders met teeth with teeth a couple of times, before anyone's tongue got involved. It was more like a duel than a kiss, bitten lips and tongues, growls and teeth-on-teeth clacks. And then Anders brought out the sparks again, and Lucien bit the healer's lip hard enough to bleed.

"Ok, not that I am complaining, because I could watch this all day and night, but whatever the two of you are doing, neither of you is doing it to me?" Zevran peered confusedly over Anders's shoulder.

Anders reached for the hand still pinned under his side, with his free hand, and pressed sparks into Zevran's palm.

"Oh. Oh... Lucien, why have we never done this?" Zevran picked up the pace from a slow and lazy grind to something with a bit more intent, and Anders tightened encouragingly around him, drawing him in with every thrust.

"I leave my weapons at the door, when I come to bed," Lucien growled, licking the blood off Anders's lip.

"This is why you weren't any fun, back in the Circle, isn't it?" Anders teased. "Nobody taught you how to misuse your magic in the fun ways."

"You were a healer. I was ... not. Do you know how fast I would have ended up in your place, if anyone even breathed my name in the wrong tone?" Lucien ran another jolt through Anders as punctuation.

"Luke, if you keep doing that, I will make up for all of it. I will breathe your name in whatever tone you like." Anders shivered and rocked his hips between Zevran thrusting into him and thrusting himself into Lucien's hand. "And if you move your pinky so it's under... like that. I think you'll get him, too."

Lucien loosed another jolt and Anders clenched and arched, hearing Zevran's teeth clack shut, behind him.

"And he is doing this inside of you, Lucien?" Zevran mumbled, inquisitively.

"I'll show you later," Lucien promised, before returning his attention to Anders. "You're strangely still, Anders. Did I break you?"

"Hardly." Anders bunched his fingers and pressed a little harder, feeling Lucien part for his knuckles, at last, as he scattered sparks down his fingers again.

Lucien bucked and arched again, retaliating with another delicious jolt, one that, with his hand still wrapped around both himself and Anders, set him off again, adding to the cooling, slick pool on the blanket between them.

Anders rode Zevran harder, as the electricity lanced through him, chasing up his nerves, caressing his bones. He'd thought that last one was gone, but a little magic in the right places had always done wonders, and this time was no different. He heard Zevran's breath quicken, behind him.

"Fucking take me, Zevran. Fill me up, this time," Anders gritted out, caressing Lucien's insides.

"There's that legendary stamina," Lucien teased.

"No, that's just what happens when you add electricity." Anders cricked his fingers just right, and Lucien's laugh turned into gasping, desperate sounds. "It's a good thing I'm a healer. I'm going to need one, after this..."

Melting butter pooled around Anders's hip as he thrust between the two elves. The bowl had flipped at some point, but he couldn't quite care. It was Lucien's bed, anyway, and it was probably Lucien's _fault_.

And then Zevran reached across them both, fingers digging in hard, as he grabbed Lucien's ass, his breaths shorter and with more little sounds of desire scattered between them. "Do this for me, caro," he breathed across Anders's back, and Lucien wasted no time in calling up a low charge in his hand, through his fingers, and holding it, stroking it over his length and Anders's.

Anders lost himself in it, the pounding and panting at his back, Lucien's sweet electric fingers on him. His eyes rolled back and his fingers fluttered inside Lucien, as he loosed a somewhat stronger jolt that clung to his fingers as they drummed against Lucien's smooth, warm flesh.

Lucien and Anders went over, first, clinging to each other as the electricity raced through them, putting them in time with each other, every pulse striking both at once. Lucien soaked the space between them a third time, but Anders throbbed painfully for a few milky drops, eyes squeezing shut as he felt Zevran let go, inside him.

"Incredible," Zevran panted.

"Shut up," Lucien groaned, nudging Anders with his wrist. "I can't feel my leg."

"It's still attached. Please don't make me get up." Anders's voice was muffled against Lucien's neck.

"Don't you dare get up. Can anyone reach the bell rope?" Lucien asked. "I'm cancelling anything anyone thought I was doing before midday, tomorrow."

Anders made quiet noises of relief and approval.

"Only tomorrow?" Zevran asked. "I thought I might keep you like this all week..."

"I need to keep Amaranthine from setting itself on fire," Lucien groaned. "Anders, keep him away from the banns."

"Get me a case of lyrium potions, and I'll consider it," Anders mumbled. "Can I have my fingers back?"

"I could go another round," Lucien offered, thoughtfully.

Anders groaned loudly.

"It's just you, mi amore." But, Zevran offered his hand, all the same. "Come break my wrist again. We have a healer right here."

"Your healer is taking a nap. Wake me up if you break anything."

Lucien yawned and stretched, and when a small mew broke the silence, each of them thought it was one of the others. Anders eased his fingers out of Lucien, stroking fondly as he drew out the tips. And then Zevran shrieked. There was no other word for it, really. Shrieked. A shrill, horrified sound of pain. 

Anders turned his head so fast his shoulder collided with Zevran's face. "What--"

"I believe this is yours, healer." Zevran's hand came up over Anders's chest with a small orange cat scruffed in it. "It is very sharp."

"Pounce! You wicked thing!" Anders reached for the cat and changed his mind after a quick assessment of the state of his hand. "Just... put him on the pillow. He'll distract himself with my hair, in a minute."

"I am not a mountain to be climbed, you fuzzy little terror," Zevran scolded, placing the cat above Anders's head. "I am no archdemon to be conquered."

"My ass might disagree with that last," Anders muttered. "Pounce and I will be right here, if you need me. Please don't roll over on my cat."

"I'm sure he would never permit such an offence," Zevran teased. "Just another set of holes for you to close, healer. I think I am bleeding."

"I know I'm bleeding. I'm still taking a nap." Anders curled up, and as expected, Pounce immediately tried to make a nest of his hair. "Might want to get the butter, Luke. I think you knocked it over."

"Laundry's problem," Lucien decided, crawling over Anders, to situate himself behind Zevran. "Mmm, hello, beloved. Did you miss me?"

"Every moment I spend parted from you."

"Don't listen to them, Pounce. 'S not for kittens," Anders mumbled, exhausted, as he drifted off, Zevran still inside him.


End file.
